


The Joys of Hypothermia

by blacktofade



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: First Time, Fuck Or Die, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-05
Updated: 2009-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-24 18:21:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacktofade/pseuds/blacktofade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk needs to find a way to warm up, luckily, Scotty is there to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Joys of Hypothermia

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Радости переохлаждения](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12109212) by [Takihara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Takihara/pseuds/Takihara)



Jim lets out a loud yelp as he falls to the floor, the creature behind him having grabbed him around both his ankles with its tongue. Today is not the day Jim Kirk is going to die, he decides, so he twists his body over and reaches for his belt where his phaser is. He tugs it from the holster and shoots wildly. The creature screams in pain as it’s hit, but falls silent and crumples to the floor not long after. The grip around his ankles loosens as the creature finally dies and he pulls his legs away with a slick, wet sound. His boots are covered in a sticky saliva-type substance, which annoys him; he likes these shoes.

He quickly stands up, brushing the snow off his backside, never taking his eyes off the unmoving mass in front of him, just in case it has some sort of reviving ability he doesn’t know about. He needs to find somewhere safe and possibly warm to stay the night and the cave he’s in right now is neither. Keeping as far away from the creature as he can, he edges his way back out into the chilling, blustery wind, pulling his hood up to try to contain most of his heat anyway he can.

The sun is dropping, slowly, but steadily, behind glaciers in the distance and Jim is actually starting to get worried; he does not want to be caught out in the open when it’s dark. He speeds up, hoping that the one or two good deeds he’s done in his life so far are enough to redeem him and increase his chances of finding shelter. About thirty minutes later, he promises he won’t give Bones any trouble if he needs to hypo him in the next month, because he spots a small door in the side of a hill, which is almost completely blocked up by snow, but it gives him hope.

He runs over to it and begins furiously pushing snow away, getting most of it on himself in the process, but after a few minutes, he’s cleared enough to try to open it. The handle cracks, having been frozen in place by small icicles, and it takes a bit of force, but Jim finally gets it open and slips inside. The door slams shut behind him and he’s left in a dimly lit hallway, which smells faintly of motor oil and mothballs. The lights overhead flicker like they’re about to go out, and the whole scene reminds Jim of a horror movie he once watched. He’d be lying if he said his imagination wasn’t getting the better of him.

Cautiously, he walks further into the building, his boots against the concrete floor the only sound. The first door on the right he comes to is locked, but opposite it is another door, which isn’t. Before he opens it completely, he pulls his phaser out and flicks it onto _stun_ − just in case, he tells himself; can never be too careful. He thinks about having the element of surprise in his favor, until the door squeaks on its hinges and gives his game away.

Holding his phaser out in front of him, he moves inside, noting that the light is only minutely better from that in the hallway. The room is a mess; there are nuts and bolts and spanners and hammers everywhere, and Jim wonders how anyone could live in such a state. He moves forward, scanning the room for movement, but doesn’t see anything. For a moment, Jim lets his eyes wander to a computer monitor, which has some scantily clad supermodel as its background, and can’t help but grin. That’s where he goes wrong, because he lets his guard down, and so it catches him completely by surprise when someone taps him on the shoulder.

He lets out a cry of alarm and spins, shooting before he can even assess the situation − something he knows will get him into deep shit one of these days. There’s a groan and a thump as a body hits the floor, landing at his feet. Guilt pushes its way into his stomach as he realizes it’s just a man, and even more so when he notices the blood dripping off the man’s brow.

He quickly holsters his phaser and falls to his knees beside the man, gently rolling him over – in his mind, he can hear Bones complaining about putting him in the recovery position as he does it – and starts to check his pockets for any form of identification. He finds a wallet in the inner pocket of the man’s coat and pulls it open to find a driver’s license that expired a year ago, a Tesco clubcard, a Bank of Scotland credit card, and a few bits of change. The license tells him that the man he’s just stunned is Montgomery Scott and that he was born in the year 2222. He slips the wallet back into Montgomery’s jacket then hooks his hands under the man’s armpits so he can shift him so he’s sitting up, leaning against the leg of a table.

He hasn’t learned much about this Montgomery guy from the contents of his wallet, but he hopes he forgives people easily. Or, just doesn’t have a record of killing people.

*

It’s at least ten minutes before Montgomery comes back around and when he does, Jim can’t even understand what he’s yelling at him because it sounds like gibberish. Apparently, it actually _is_ gibberish because Montgomery frowns and stops talking for a moment, obviously trying to sort his words out into the right order.

“Who are you?” he finally says.

“Jim Kirk. You’re Montgomery Scott.”

“Aye, I know who _I_ am, you daft idiot.” He pauses and frowns again. “My head hurts.”

“Yeah, well you kind of brought that on yourself. Hasn’t anyone ever told you that sneaking up on a man with a gun is dangerous?”

“Like I did that on purpose? I didn’t know you were armed! What were you doing waving a gun about anyway? Nothing down here but me and a bit of snow, well, perhaps quite a lot of snow, and maybe Keenser, but he doesn’t really count. Shite, my head’s really throbbing, you know that?”

Montgomery moves a hand up to his brown and winces when he brings it back down and sees the blood on his palm.

“I’ve got a first-aid kit ‘round here somewhere,” Montgomery says, “but like hell I’ll find it in this clutter. I definitely know there’s one in my room, though.” He moves as if to stand and Jim wonders if he should help, after all, he _is_ the reason Montgomery is in this state in the first place. Montgomery makes it to his feet, but stumbles into a desk, apparently disorientated, and Jim has to reach a hand out to grab him so he doesn’t topple over backwards. Looping one of Montgomery’s arms around his neck, he tugs him towards the door.

“Where’s this room, Montgomery?” he asks, hoping that it might be a little bit warmer where they’re heading because he really is starting to feel the cold now that the adrenaline has stopped pumping through his veins.

Montgomery – who tells Jim he should just call him Scotty – rattles off directions and Jim lets him lean most of his weight onto his side, because it’s the least he can do. They make it to Scotty’s room within a few minutes and Jim lets Scotty sit on the sofa while he searches through the cupboards for the first-aid kit.

“No, no, not that one; the one above,” Scotty instructs.

Jim finally finds it and passes it to Scotty, who starts to rifle through it. Finally slipping his gloves off, Jim offers to clean up Scotty’s face and Scotty just hands over the antiseptic wipe silently. Jim can feel Scotty staring at him while he wipes the drying blood off his brow, but doesn’t say anything. When his fingers accidentally brush against the warm skin of Scotty’s brow, Scotty exhales loudly.

“Jesus, your hands are freezing,” he says, breath blowing warmly over Jim’s lower face, making the cold flesh tingle.

“S’nothing. Bit cold outside, is all.”

“No, really, lad, you can do yourself a lot of damage if you don’t warm yourself up. How long you been outside? Half-hour tops and you should start worrying about your health.”

Jim shrugs and says, “Pass me a Band-Aid,” to try to change the subject because he’s been through worse, and honestly, he doesn’t feel that bad. Actually, he doesn’t really feel anything, which he should probably be a bit more worried about. Jim just can’t muster the energy to care.

His hands shake as he tries to put the Band-Aid over the cut on Scotty’s brow, but he gets it on in the end. When Jim moves to put the first-aid kit back where it came from, the room spins around him and he clutches helplessly at the countertop to stop himself from tumbling to the floor. The hand on his back confuses him because he’s sure Scotty was just sitting, unless he’s just being slow.

“C’mon, Jim, we need to get you warm. There’s a shower in the bathroom you can use; plenty of hot water there.”

“I just need a cup of coffee,” mumbles Jim, trying to shrug Scotty’s hand away as it presses him insistently in, what he guesses is, the direction of the bathroom. He turns to face Scotty and frowns. “M’fine.”

“You’re not fine; your lips are bluer than my balls, which is saying something!”

Jim snorts in amusement, but regrets it because it just makes his head spin. “I’ll just sit down for a while,” he says as he falls to the floor with a loud thump and Scotty sighs loudly.

Two hands tug him back up, but he doesn’t help because he really doesn’t want to be standing. He wants to sit down and sleep for a long, long time. Scotty maneuvers him around the room then sets him on something so soft that he thinks it must be a bed, which makes his life easier because on a bed he really _can_ sleep for a long, long time. He starts to do just that when a hand slaps at his cheek, stirring him from his blissful state.

“Wha−?” he complains, not opening his eyes.

“Don’t you dare fall asleep, Jim!” Scotty shouts at him, but Jim doesn’t care because thick blankets are being thrown over him now and he thinks he can almost feel their heat pushing through his numbed fingers. Jim suddenly realizes just how cold he is; he can feel shivers quaking through his limbs and his teeth start to chatter so much that his jaw aches.

“Scotty,” he whispers, trying not to bite his own tongue, “’m so cold.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you, but have you been listening? No. Nobody ever does, especially not Admiral Archer. He wouldn’t shut up about his bloody prized beagle for months, and I kept telling him it would be back−”

“Scotty!” Jim protests, opening his eyes. His glassy stare obviously snaps Scotty out of his rambling because Jim can tell the look on his face is completely serious now.

“Right,” Scotty says, looking about his room, as if hoping the answer to their problem will just show up. He looks back down at Jim and Jim cannot tell what he’s thinking, for the life of him.

“You’re going to have to trust me, mate,” Scotty says and Jim thinks he just about manages a nod. As soon as he does, Scotty starts to shed his clothing, tugging hastily at Jim’s own, in between shucking his pants, and tugging the second long-sleeved shirt over his head.

Jim doesn’t have the strength to stop him, but in the back of his mind he knows he’s okay, because he’s seen people do this on television once before. It was some survival show, where a very pretty woman had fallen into a frozen lake and a rather handsome doctor had saved her, carried her to his nearby log cabin, rid both of them of their clothes, and had sex with her until all the feeling in her body had returned. Thinking about it now, Jim wonders if it wasn’t a porno he’d been watching, and not the Discovery Channel.

Scotty gets him under the covers when he’s fully undressed Jim and quickly slides in beside him, pressing his ever-so warm body along the whole length of Jim’s own. Scotty keeps rubbing his hands over Jim’s chest and after a while, it begins to hurt. He complains about it to Scotty, but Scotty just tells him that’s a good thing – better to feel than not feel is his reasoning. The hands move down to Jim’s stomach after a few minutes, and for the first time in his life, Jim is embarrassed by the erection he starts to get. He tells himself that it’s perfectly normal, and possibly a good sign, because at least he knows the blood flow to his penis is still A-OK, which means it won’t just drop off.

Scotty throws his left leg over both of Jim’s own, bringing them even closer together, and from this position, Jim’s sure he can feel a mirrored arousal pressing into his thigh, though it’s still a bit numb, so he might be imagining things. His teeth are still clacking together violently and it seems like Scotty is trying his damned hardest, but it just doesn’t seem to be enough. Scotty also seems to realize this as he shifts his body so it’s completely covering Jim’s front and presses most of his weight down. It makes it even harder for Jim to breathe, but five minutes pass and the shivering throughout Jim’s body starts to lessen.

Scotty shifts slightly, obviously trying to make it more comfortable for both of them, but the movement drags their cocks together, and Jim lets out a strangled moan, which he wishes he could take back the moment it leaves his throat. For just a second, Scotty seems to pause, but then he moves again and Jim knows, even with the haze of hypothermia hanging over him, that it’s not completely unintentional. Gently, Scotty rolls off him, but then encourages Jim to move over on top of him, reversing their position, which gives Scotty the advantage of being able to warm Jim’s chest with his own, while rubbing his hands over his back as well. It gives Jim the advantage of being able to rut shamefully against the warm skin of Scotty’s inner thigh.

Scotty doesn’t stop him, but doesn’t encourage him either, just keeps rubbing his back soothingly, pressing his palms harder against Jim’s skin with every sweep of his hands, until the point where Jim starts to feel it chafing. It hurts, but Jim now knows that’s a good thing, so he doesn’t complain, he just buries his face into the curve of Scotty’s neck.

“Your nose is like an icicle,” Scotty whispers and Jim can feel the words vibrate against his cheeks. Jim keeps his face there, anyway, drawing the heat away from Scotty’s neck and shoulder, while his hips continue to thrust lightly. He’s so ashamed of himself, but he knows he’s getting warmer because he can feel his thighs now and he can’t bring himself to stop.

“I’m sorry,” he says, though his words are muffled by Scotty’s skin.

“Shh, you’re all right,” Scotty responds, his hands never faltering against Jim’s back.

Jim knows that if it weren’t for Scotty he’d probably be a little less than alive right now.

“Thank you, thank you,” he repeats until the words become so blended together that even _he_ can’t tell what he’s saying. There’s warmth spreading over his torso and slowly, it starts feeling a bit less like he’s going to die. He doesn’t know if he still has toes and fingers – if he does, he can’t feel them − but he’s thankful that he still has his life. The warmth moves down his body, encasing his stomach before plunging down below his waist. He spreads his legs slightly because his cock is still twitching for release, and the movement shifts his hips further down, so his erection is jammed between Scotty’s body and his own.

He swallows, hoping it’ll keep any moans from bubbling out of his mouth, and continues to hide his face as he rocks his hips. He never thought in a million years that he would be in a situation where he’d be taking advantage of someone without their consent and it’s then that he realizes that he _shouldn’t_ ever be in such a situation. Trying not to elbow Scotty, Jim rolls off the other man’s chest, ignoring the grappling hands that attempt to pull him back. With his back to Scotty, Jim tugs the covers closer around his body – though he knows they’re nothing compared to Scotty’s body heat – and slips a hand down to tug at his cock.

His fingers are still cold, but not enough to put him off. He jerks himself quickly, feeling a flush rise on his cheeks from embarrassment and tries to make as little noise as possible. There’s movement behind him – he can feel the mattress shifting – and he’s not really surprised when Scotty’s chest presses flush against his back and doesn’t blink at the erection pressing into his lower back because Scotty is only human after all. He _is_ surprised, however, at the hand that slides over his hip then moves down to wrap around his own fist that’s still stroking his cock. The touch is light, as though unsure whether it should be there or not, but Jim would have to be insane to push it away. Instead, he thrusts up into it and Scotty’s grip tightens.

He shouldn’t, it’s not right, but he keeps going because he feels so warm now; because he feels so much safer wrapped up in Scotty’s arms than he did in the icy grasp of the wilderness outside. He keeps pumping their hands until he can almost feel his toes curl as he comes, spilling over their fingers without a word of warning. As he starts to regain his breath, a wave of coldness sweeps over him and his shivering starts up again. Jim lets out a soft whimper and Scotty’s hand moves back to rub along his arm.

“That’ll be the after drop; your blood's going cold again,” Scotty explains, rubbing harder. “C’mon.” Without a proper warning, Scotty throws the covers back, climbs over Jim, and then tugs him out of the bed.

“A shower’ll get rid of that,” he says, leading Jim quickly to the attached bathroom. He switches the shower on, testing the temperature with his hand, and then when he obviously deems it hot enough, he shoves Jim under the spray. The hot water burns against his hands and feet, making them tingle painfully, but Scotty doesn’t let go of his upper arms and there’s no way he can escape.

“Fuck!” he yells, twisting and turning to try to get away from the water, and in the end, Scotty reaches around him and turns the temperature down minutely.

“Like a bloody child,” Scotty mutters, but lets go of Jim anyway, stepping back and sliding the shower curtain into place.

Jim is thankful for the privacy as he cleans his own come off his hands and quickly locates a sponge so he can scrub the rest of his body.

*

When he steps out, he watches the steam twist around his body, and appreciates the way he can feel his toes, even though they’re pressed against the painfully-cold tiled floor. He dries himself with a nearby towel and gets most of the dampness out of his hair before he returns to Scotty’s bedroom. The room is almost completely dark and Jim realises just how tired he is when his eyes keep trying to droop closed.

He stumbles past the bed, searching for a sofa of some sort when a voice pipes up from the bed.

“Where you going? Get your naked arse in here, else you’ll catch another chill.”

Jim doesn’t really want to get back into bed with Scotty – Scotty’s a nice guy, he’s just ashamed of the fact that he totally took advantage of the man’s hospitality by fucking his hips and hand earlier – but he won’t say no to a bit more body heat. He blindly feels his way to the bed, stumbling over his own snow jacket in the process, then quickly crawls under the blankets, immediately enjoying the warmness within.

He lies on his back for a few awkward moments before he brings himself to say what he’s thinking.

“I’m really sorry about earlier, I usually have more self-restraint, though my friend Bones would probably choose to disagree with that statement. I appreciate you not leaving me to die.”

He hears a soft snort of laughter.

“It’s alright, Jim, just get some rest.” Jim rolls over onto his side, back to Scotty, but then remembers Scotty’s own injuries and shifts to lie on his back again.

“How’s your head doing?”

“Eh, I’ve had worse.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have a concussion or anything like that, do you? If you do, I can stay awake with you, or just watch over you, or−”

“Jim?” Scotty interrupts.

“Yeah?”

“Go to sleep.” And for once in his life, Jim listens.

*

When comes to, he’s not really awake, just drifting in a hazy state of consciousness, but he knows he’s warm and pressed against something that’s soft and comfortable, which makes him not want to wake up further. His body aches like he’s spent the night sleeping on an uncomfortable floor, but it’s nothing he hasn’t felt before.

He tries to stretch his arms forward, but there’s something blocking the way, so instead, he just shifts closer to it. Whatever it is grumbles and moves, and that’s when it dawns on Jim that he’s in Scotty’s bed and the warm lump he’s pushed up against is probably Scotty himself.

He peels his eyes open, thankful that the room is still rather dark, though that might be because he seems to have his face pressed into Scotty’s chest. He draws his head up, blinking wearily and feeling like he needs a lot more sleep. Scotty’s snoring lightly, facing towards Jim, and Jim wonders how long Scotty’s been stuck down here by himself. It must be pretty lonely if all he has to keep him company is a fuck load of snow and some spanners.

Still apparently asleep, Scotty hums contentedly in the back of his throat and Jim wonders what he’s dreaming about, then reckons that it’s probably about being somewhere else, like on a nice beach, or back home in Scotland. The first time Scotty’s hips thrust forward, Jim thinks he’s just getting comfortable. The second and third times make him suspicious that perhaps Scotty’s dreaming about some leggy, nubile woman instead.

Jim realises that neither of them are wearing anything still and the feeling of Scotty’s heated cock pressing against his stomach has him biting gently on his bottom lip. He really should move, or wake Scotty − or thrust back against him, as that seems to be the decision his hips have made for him. Feeling even guiltier now, Jim scoots backwards away from Scotty, though Scotty’s lower half tries to follow him. Scotty awakens with a jolt and a loud put out groan. It seems to take him a few moments to gather his surroundings, but when he does, he looks at Jim with an embarrassed half-smile.

“Sorry,” he says, his voice deep from sleep, “you should have just kicked me in the balls, like a dog.”

Jim laughs politely because he doesn’t really feel like admitting that he had been enjoying the feel of said balls when he had been humping right back.

“Cannae remember the last time I woke up with a naked, good-looking bloke in my bed,” Scotty jokes, obviously trying to make light of their situation, although it just makes Jim even more uncomfortable and aware of his own nudity. He wonders if he’ll be able to reach his underwear from where he’s sitting, though he hits a snag in his thoughts because he doesn’t really remember where they got to. He wishes Scotty would go take a shower or something because he’s got a problem he wants to take care of, but preferably not in front of the other man this time. He’s thankful that there are enough blankets on the bed to hide it from Scotty’s view for the time being.

Without even wincing, Scotty brings his hand up to the Band-Aid on his brow and pulls it off in one smooth movement. The cut has dried, but it still looks red and a little bit irritated. Scotty tosses the used plaster towards the trashcan, but Jim isn’t able to see whether it makes it in or not.

Scotty yawns loudly and stretches his arms over his head. The duvet shifts down, allowing Jim a glimpse of a broad, toned chest, which he can’t quite keep his eyes off. Without revealing any outward appearance of shame, Scotty sits up, throws his legs over the edge of the bed, and stands up. If Jim thought Scotty’s chest was a nice view, it’s nothing compared to his ass; it’s pale and very inviting from where Jim’s lying. Scotty stretches again, ignorant or, more likely, indifferent to his lack of clothes and makes his way towards the bathroom, scratching his belly as he walks. The door clicks shut behind him and Jim holds his breath.

A few moments later, the noise of water from a shower comes through the door and all Jim can picture in his mind is Scotty stepping under the spray, his skin glistening wetly and his cock as hard as his own. Jim exhales loudly and all but kicks the blankets to the end of the bed in his haste to uncover his lower half. He shifts backwards until his back his pressed against the bed’s headboard and spreads his legs, allowing himself more room to wrap his right hand around his hardened cock. He bites his tongue to stop his moans of brief satisfaction from echoing around the room and flicks his thumb over the reddened, leaking head. In his mind, the thumb belongs to Scotty because right now that’s what he wants, that’s what he’s wishing Scotty had done the night before. He doesn’t even care that he and Scotty know almost nothing about each other, apart from names; he’s had one-night-stands based on less information.

He throws his head back, accidentally knocking it against the headboard, causing a loud _thump_ to sound out. He doesn’t even care, he just keeps stroking himself, imagining Scotty doing the same in the room over. He slows his pace down because he knows he has a few more minutes – Scotty’s probably washing his hair right now – and begins to lazily flick his wrist. He pictures Scotty sitting at the end of the bed, watching him, wearing nothing but a grin, and his breath catches; god, he’s so close.

Without warning, the bathroom door slowly opens to reveal Scotty, with one towel around his waist and another over his head, which he’s rubbing against his wet hair.

“I forgot to ask if you wanted a shower, ‘cause if you do, I’ll leave the water on. Takes forever for the water to heat back up if you turn it off, otherwise” he trails off because he’s just pulled the towel off his head and he finally sees Jim, and see Jim he does, because Jim’s so shocked, he hasn’t been able to move his hands to grab the sheets and pull them up over his still-spread legs. He knows Scotty sees everything, and when he _says_ everything, he _means_ everything.

Scotty drops the towel in his hands and doesn’t stop staring at Jim’s right hand – which still seems to be tugging at his cock because he’s too surprised to do anything else but carry on.

“I−I−” Scotty stutters. “Christ Almighty.”

Jim’s face feels like it’s on fire, because as much as he might be an exhibitionist, he’s never _really_ wanted to get caught. Scotty’s eye roam up Jim’s chest, until they lock gazes and Jim can hardly stand how uncomfortable it makes him feel.

“God, it’s been so long,” Scotty mutters, seemingly more to himself than Jim, because Jim has no possible idea how he could even begin to reply to that.

Scotty takes a step forward, but then stops suddenly, as though he’s just realised what he’s doing. Jim watches as he raises one hand out, as though he wants to wrap his fingers around Jim’s own, like he did the night before, and Jim feels like he might come then and there. He breaks Scotty’s gaze, looking at the end of the bed, and moans just loudly enough that he knows Scotty will hear it; he hopes it conveys everything he can’t say right now. Apparently it does, because movement catches his eye and he turns his face to find Scotty taking tentative steps towards him. Jim thinks he can almost feel the heat radiating from Scotty’s body as he gets closer and he loves the way Scotty’s cheeks are flushed – perhaps because of the warm water he was just in, though possibly because he likes the sight spread before him.

Scotty perches on the edge of the bed and Jim watches his eyes scan over his body now that he’s closer and he can see more details. Scotty lifts a hand and moves to touch a freckle on Jim’s stomach, but pauses, his finger hovering just above Jim’s skin, and looks into Jim’s eyes.

“Can I?” he asks, and all Jim can do is nod his head and breathe a shaky, “Yeah,” in reply.

Scotty’s finger feels like fire against his skin, but, god, burning has never felt so good. Jim watches Scotty’s fingers dance over the rest of his belly and can’t help it as his muscles twitch involuntarily underneath them. The hand moves to touch Jim’s right forearm, sliding torturously slow downwards, until it curls around Jim’s wrist. With an encouraging tug, Scotty pulls Jim’s hand away from where it’s still wrapped around his cock, and gently moves to take its place, tracing his fingertips up along the velvet-soft underside, until he can rub the edge of his index finger against the slit on the tip.

Jim bucks his hips up, gasping loudly for the breath that seems to have been sucked right out of him.

“Ohh,” he moans, unable to take his eyes off the sight of Scotty’s hand wrapping fully around his cock now. The first strokes are much too rough for his liking, but after a while, they soften, until Jim is practically clawing for more.

“Scott− Scotty,” he whimpers, reaching a hand down to his erection to squeeze firmly at the base because he doesn’t want to come just yet. Scotty obviously gets the hint because he moves his hand away, though it’s not very helpful because he runs up the inside of Jim’s thigh, instead, and that action alone has Jim shuddering and squeezing his cock harder.

He lets go of himself and bats Scotty’s hand away, almost in one motion, and Scotty smirks, blatantly knowing what he’s doing to Jim’s high-strung body. Jim shifts into the centre of the bed and, with a gently pull on Scotty’s bicep, Scotty tugs the towel off from around his waist, and slides alongside him, running his hands along his sides and breathing hotly onto Jim’s neck.

Every part of Scotty’s skin is so warm, and he smells so clean, as thought in need of dirtying, which Jim thinks is lucky, because he’s quite good at that, in his opinion.

Without thinking, Jim moves a hand to cup Scotty’s chin and brings their faces closer together. Jim almost believes that he can see the exact amount of time Scotty has been waiting for someone to show up at his base reflected in his eyes, and it’s far too long in Jim’s opinion. Scotty closes his eyes and Jim presses forward just enough for their lips to touch. As though shocked with electricity, Scotty comes to life, licking and biting at Jim’s lips until they throb to the same beat as his cock. Their tongues twist together as Scotty moves to straddle Jim’s waist and Jim moans openly as their erections nudge briefly.

“If you insist on making noises like that, I am not going to last,” Scotty complains against Jim’s lips, but Jim just grins.

“Should I see how many times I can make you come in an hour?” he whispers back and Scotty breaks the kiss to rest their foreheads together.

“How about we save that for later? There’s not much else to do ‘round here, anyway.”

Jim pushes their mouths back together and slides a hand down to finally touch Scotty. Scotty hisses with pleasure, arching his back and thrusting into Jim’s palm, which is the exact response Jim wanted to get from him. Scotty pulls his face back again and Jim can easily read the need on his face.

“Oh god, Jim!” he breathes, “Let me fuck you. Please, it’s been so long since I’ve been with someone. Please.”

Scotty doesn’t even need to resort to begging because Jim is more than happy to comply.

“Do it, then,” he says, loving the way Scotty groans with anticipated pleasure at his words. Scotty moves to presses open-mouthed kisses along Jim’s collarbone, as though he’s silently thanking him. After a few moments, Scotty pulls back and moves off of Jim’s body as he leans over the side of the bed to open and reach into the top drawer of the nightstand. He noisily shuffles through it, cursing gently under his breath – something about “fucking condoms collecting dust” – until he obviously finds what he’s looking for. The drawer slams shut and Scotty straightens up.

Scotty’s eyes once again trace down Jim’s body and Jim can almost hear him thinking, _what did I do to deserve this?_

Jim licks his swollen lips and bends his knees, placing his feet flat on the bed, offering himself up to Scotty, who groans softly and moves to kneel in the space between Jim’s legs. As Jim hears the cap of the lube being opened, he shuts his eyes and waits for the touch he knows is coming.

Scotty’s first finger traces around his entrance until Jim starts pushing his body down, trying to get it inside him instead. Scotty, after a few more seconds of torment, obliges, slipping the digit into the warmth of Jim’s body. The finger is nothing but efficient as it thrusts in and out of him, quickly finding and rubbing against his prostate. It has Jim writhing for more, needing another finger inside him. The second finger stretches his open gently and a familiar, not-unpleasant burn starts up. By the time Scotty slips a third finger inside, Jim’s back on the edge of an orgasm. As though knowing this, Scotty pulls his fingers out.

Without warning, Scotty grips Jim’s hips and tugs him forward, pulling him away from the headboard, so his head falls to rest on one of Scotty’s pillows. Jim’s eyes fly open and he can’t help but laugh softly in surprise. He sits up on his elbows and watches as Scotty opens the small foil square and slides the condom onto himself. Scotty strokes himself with his still lube-covered hand, slicking himself up, and Jim relaxes himself when he sees Scotty move to line up with his entrance.

The first push is too gentle, not enough force to get Scotty inside, but with a jolt of his hips, Scotty slips in with a loud moan.

“Jesus, you feel so good,” he praises, pushing further forward until he can’t go any deeper. Jim purposely squeezes around Scotty’s cock and Scotty’s head falls heavily to his shoulder. He breathes hotly against Jim’s skin, biting and nipping every now and again with his teeth. Jim brings his legs up and wraps them around Scotty’s back, giving them a better angle and making Scotty slip inside him a little bit deeper. They both groan and Scotty starts thrusting in earnest.

The movements are deep and powerful, hinting to Jim that Scotty’s definitely no stranger to fucking men, which is good, because this is the exact sort of sex Jim needs right now, something so hard and fast that he’ll feel it for days after. Jim cants his hips up, rubbing his cock harder against Scotty’s belly, and turns his head to lick along Scotty’s jaw. Scotty slowly moves his face around until Jim is tonguing at his chin and lips instead, then he opens his mouth and pulls them both into a messy kiss.

Scotty reaches a hand between them, so he can stroke Jim in time to his thrusts, but for Jim, it’s too much. He lets out a strangled yell into Scotty’s mouth then comes against both of their stomachs. He feels so content and boneless, that he just lets Scotty keep thrusting into his body, until he finally tenses up and cries out Jim’s name. Scotty flops forwards onto Jim’s chest, and Jim can’t say that he doesn’t like the heavy weight on him; it makes him feel like he’s surrounded by a impenetrable wall.

With a gentle groan, Scotty pulls out of him and sits up. He pulls the condom off, puts a knot in the end, and leans away from Jim to put it in the trashcan. Jim can feel his body pulsing in the afterglow and his ass aches pleasantly; it has been far too long since someone’s fucked him so thoroughly. Scotty moves to lie in the space next to Jim, facing towards him and dropping light kisses over Jim’s throat.

“Thank you,” he murmurs and Jim doesn’t even need to see his face to tell that what he’s said is genuine and completely heart-felt.

 _Poor guy_ , Jim thinks, because, in his opinion, no one should be left alone for such a long period of time, especially, if it means no sex.

He hums tiredly. “Should be saying the same thing to you.”

They lay together for a few more moments, before Scotty sits up so suddenly that it makes Jim jump and bolt upright, too.

“Shite, the shower’s still on!” He quickly hops out of bed and runs towards the bathroom, and even though Jim is almost completely worn out, he still enjoys the view of Scotty’s backside until it disappears out of sight. Slowly, Jim throws his legs over the edge of the bed and makes his way after Scotty.

When he enters the bathroom, Scotty is standing back under the spray of the shower, cursing at the water dial.

“Damn thing’s jammed,” he says when he notices Jim over his shoulder.

Without a word, Jim steps into the shower with him, pressing his chest into Scotty’s back. He runs his tongue over the back of Scotty’s neck then moves his lips to Scotty’s ear.

“I could do with a shower anyway,” Jim admits, running his hand down Scotty’s stomach, where he knows traces of his own come are. Scotty seems to give up on trying to turn the water off and twists around to face him.

“Aye, I know you could,” he says, laughter obvious in his eyes, as he steps forward to move their lips together again.

If Jim’s honest, he’s not even afraid that the water could go cold and give him another case of hypothermia, because he knows Scotty’ll be there to warm him up, whatever way he deems necessary.


End file.
